


New York

by SPowell



Series: Coming Out series [1]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, New Relationship, Post Sweet Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:01:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winner of the Gollie Ollie award 2012</p><p>Part I in a series. Starsky and Hutch are romantically involved and want to share it with those closest to them. In Part one, they head to New York City to tell Starsky's mother and brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this, I would love a comment. If you don't want to comment, please press the Kudos button. (It gives me a secret thrill.)

Part I: New York

 

Hutch broke out in a sweat as soon as the plane landed.

“Would you please calm down?” Starsky whispered into his ear as they slowly shuffled their way up the aisle with their carry-on bags. “You’re startin’ to make _me_ nervous!”

“I-I’m not good at this kind of thing, Starsk.”

“What, you spent ten years staring down hardened criminals, but you can’t face a sixty-nine-year-old lady?”

Hutch turned his head to catch Starsky’s eye, stumbling over his own feet. Starsky’s left arm shot out, steadying his partner with a hand on his elbow.

“I don’t want to ‘stare down’ your mother, Starsky!” Hutch hissed, embarrassed that his nerves were bringing both his stuttering and his clumsiness to the fore. “I want her to like me.”

“She already likes you, Blondie,” Starsky said, following Hutch down the steel steps to the tarmac. A cold New York wind momentarily took his breath, and he shivered, hefting the strap of his bag higher on his shoulder. Hutch walked ahead of him and stood holding the door as Starsky gratefully slipped into the heated interior of the airport.

“She likes me as your best friend and partner,” Hutch pointed out. “Somehow I don’t think she’s going to like me as your lover.”

Starsky grinned. He still couldn’t get used to the sound of it—he and Hutch were lovers. Of course, it had only been a month since things had completely changed for them. He should’ve known—ever since he’d met Hutch in the academy, he’d been aware of a latent sexual attraction to his partner. An attraction that he’d promptly and deeply buried. It’d taken his close encounter with death to sweep away a lifetime of instilled homophobic fear. These days he simply felt grateful to have such a love in his life—a love he’d had for years but never dared dream of expanding on.

“What’re you grinning about?” Hutch asked, grasping Starsky’s fingers briefly as they walked through the airport.

“What do y’think?” Starsky winked at him, and Hutch ducked his head. “You’re blushing,” Starsky accused.

“I am not!” Hutch denied, but turned his face away and looked out the window rather than meet his partner’s gaze. That was another thing—they were still partners, but not on the police force. They’d officially quit, and once they left New York and went on to Minnesota, Hutch was going to inform his parents of his intention to make use of his inheritance in order for them to start fresh. But first things first: while in New York, they would tell Beatrice Starsky about their relationship.

Starsky had to admit to himself that the thought of telling his mother he was in love and having sex with a man gave him a bit of a stomach ache, but he and Hutch had agreed they weren’t going to lie to the people closest to them—their relationship had to remain secret in too many other ways. Even if they weren’t on the police force anymore, being a gay couple wasn’t something they could be completely open about.

Once outside the airport, Starsky caught sight of Nick’s green VW and waved. He and Hutch hoisted their bags and walked toward it, jostled about in the crowd of travelers disembarking cabs and buses. Starsky climbed into the front seat with his brother while Hutch squeezed into the back beside their bags.

“Got enough leg room?” Starsky asked, reaching down to shift his seat forward a little more.

“I’m fine,” Hutch answered. “How’re you doing, Nick?” He asked politely.

“Okay. You?” Nick asked.

Hutch smiled at the eyes regarding him in the rear view mirror. “Great.”

“I can’t believe you two quit the force,” Nick said as he pulled out into traffic.

“It was time,” Starsky replied. “How’s Ma?”

“She’s good. She’s been complaining about her lumbago a little.”

“I feel for her,” Hutch said, adjusting his seatbelt.

“Hutch’s had a bad back for years,” Starsky told his brother. “It’s been bothering him lately. Too much strenuous activity.” He cleared his throat, coloring, and turned to look out the window. The memory of the _strenuous activity_ he’d recently participated in with his partner was making him hard, fast. He pulled the flaps of his coat over his lap and refused to look at Hutch in the back seat.

“If you quit the force, what kinda strenuous activity have you been doing?” Nick asked curiously.

“Gym,” Hutch answered at the same time as Starsky said, “Moving furniture.”

They looked at one another.

“Both,” Hutch said. He ran his fingers over his mustache and focused his gaze at the back Nick’s head. Starsky got lost for a moment staring at those long fingers and remembering what they were doing to him the night before.

“Earth to Dave,” Nick said loudly.

“Huh? What?” Starsky turned to look at his brother.

“Man, what were you thinking about just now? You have the weirdest look on your face!”

Fortunately for them, a truck chose that moment to cut them off, and Nick leaned on his horn, cursing vehemently. Starsky took the opportunity to turn on the radio, and conversation turned to the Rolling Stones.

Once in Bea Starsky’s small but homey apartment, Hutch began to relax a little. The awesome aroma of vegetable soup permeated every breath he took. Bea had insisted he make himself comfortable on the sofa and relax, since Starsky had told her about his bad back, while Starsky and Nick helped her in the kitchen. Resting his head on the cushions, Hutch’s mind wandered to the day that everything had changed for him and his partner.

_Starsky had been out of his coma for a week, and Hutch had arrived at the hospital after work to keep him company for a while. Starsky still had an IV in his hand, and he was weak as a kitten. His nurse, a pretty young thing named Debbie, took his vitals and announced that she would be back shortly to give him a sponge bath._

_“Lucky you,” Hutch told him with a grin after she’d left the room. He’d been riding high ever since Starsky had regained consciousness and it had been established that he was going to be all right. He found he couldn’t get enough of just sitting in the room with his partner and shooting the breeze._

_“Shit, Hutch! I don’t wanna sponge bath. Can you hold her off?” There was real distress in Starsky’s eyes._

_“Why don’t you want one?” Hutch asked, perching carefully on the side of his bed. “I would think it would be a treat to be washed by a beautiful girl.”_

_“Normally it would. But not now.”_

_Hutch raised his brows, silently questioning._

_Starsky’s eyes drifted to the area of his crotch. “I don’t want her to see that I’m sporting a woody!”_

_Hutch looked down. Sure enough, there was an impressive bulge under the blanket._

_“I thought you were too medicated to get it up,” he said uncertainly._

_“Tell my dick that, why doncha? I’ve been hard on and off all day. Can’t seem to control it. Hutch—what am I gonna do? This is fucking embarrassing!”_

_“Starsk—she’s a nurse. I’m sure she sees this kind of thing all the time.”_

_Starsky shook his head. “You saw her—she’s twenty-three at most, plus she told me she just started nursing a month ago. Hutch, I can’t let her pull the blanket down and have my hard cock pop out at her! She’ll be mortified, and I’ll never be able to look her in the face again.”_

_Hutch sighed, rubbing his fingers over his eyes. “Well, how about this---I’ll watch the door, and you jerk off. Then you can clean up real quick before she gets back.”_

_Starsky laid his head back on the pillow and looked at the ceiling. “Good idea except for one thing—I’ve already tried it. Last night I had a boner that wouldn’t let up. My IV gives me no range of motion, and I’m weak as my Granma Gert.”_

_“I thought Granma Gert was a professional wrestler,” Hutch smiled._

_“That’s my Aunt Stella,” Starsky muttered. “Granma Gert’s in a nursing home an' plays with dolls. Hutch, what am I gonna do?”_

_Starsky looked miserable, and Hutch hated seeing him that way. With a grunt, he got off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom, appearing a moment later rubbing his hands together._

_“What’re you doin?” Starsky asked suspiciously, cutting his eyes Hutch’s way._

_“Don’t you worry about it.” Hutch crossed to the door and looked up and down the hall. Then he shut it. Back by Starsky’s side, he told him to close his eyes._

_“What the hell for?”_

_“You wanted me to do something, now close your eyes and trust me,” Hutch used the tone of voice that he knew commanded action out of his partner on the street._

_Starsky swallowed and closed his eyes. Taking a seat on the bed with his back to Starsky, Hutch folded down the covers and lifted Starsky’s blue hospital gown where it tented up over his groin. Hutch sucked in a breath through his teeth in sympathy. Starsky hadn’t been exaggerating—he was hard as granite, his long, thick, cut cock filled to the limit with blood. It couldn’t be comfortable. With resolve, Hutch took it in his hand, which he’d covered liberally with the lubricant he’d found near a package of rubber gloves in the bathroom, and gave it a stroke. Starsky gasped, arching off the bed, body stiff._

_Hutch whispered, “It’s okay, buddy. What’s a little jack-off between friends?” After a moment, Starsky let out a breath and slowly relaxed into the mattress. Determined to do this quickly and efficiently, all the while hoping fervently that the young nurse wouldn’t return in middle of it and get a shock much more jarring than a patient with a hard-on, Hutch set about stropping and gently twisting his partner’s engorged phallus._

_“Oh, God…” Starsky groaned, tilting his head back on the pillow. “Oh, that feels so good…” Hutch was surprised to feel himself hardening in his pants. “Oh, shit, Hutch—Man, you’re the best—best friend a guy could…have!” Starsky began humping into Hutch’s hand. Hutch broke out in a sweat, his breathing accelerating. He glanced toward the closed door, knowing they had to hurry. Reaching over with his other oiled hand, he carefully fondled Starsky’s balls._

_“Oh, mother of---shit!” Starsky panted, writhing on the bed._

_“Come on, Buddy! You can do it!” Hutch whispered, thumbing the head of Starsky’s cock the way he knew felt good._

_“Oh, Christ Almighty!” With an series of jolts, Starsky came in long spurts, breathing hard._

_“That’s it!” Hutch almost laughed with relief. He hurried into the bathroom and tossed Starsky a wet wash cloth. He was just in time, too, for a moment later the door opened and Debbie appeared with her bath supplies. Hutch felt as though he’d just delivered a baby or something._

_Except for one thing._

_He closed himself in the bathroom, turned on the water, and unzipped his pants, jacking himself off using the remnants of Starsky’s semen on his hand._

The doorbell rang, and voices sounded in the hallway. “Asleep?” Starsky asked, touching Hutch on the shoulder. He opened his eyes and shook his head.

“Just thinking.”

“Dinner’s ready,” Starsky told him, offering him a hand up. Hutch grasped it and stood. “Nick’s girlfriend just got here.”

Bea went back to setting the dining room table as Nick and a short, slim girl with dark hair and long bangs followed her in. “Davey, Hutch, this is my girlfriend, Bethany.”

 “Hi, Bethany,” Starsky shook her hand. Hutch did the same.

“How did you meet my brother?” Starsky asked her.

“We met at a local bar,” Bethany answered, smiling at Nick.

“Aren’t you gonna try to win her away from me?” Nick asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as they entered the dining room.

“Naw,” Starsky said, taking a seat at the table beside his mother. “You deserve a break now and then.”

“Gee, thanks, Bro,” Nick shook his head. “Davey’s a real ladies’ man,” Nick told Bethany. “Never met a girl he didn’t hit on.”

“That’s not true,” Starsky laughed.

“Yeah, it is,” Hutch teased him.

“Everything looks so nice,” Hutch told Bea as he sat down on her other side.

“Thank you, Ken! And you look so much more rested now. Do you feel better?”

“I’m fine. My back’s just been acting up a little.”

“From moving furniture and going to the gym,” Nick supplied with an odd look at his brother.

Bea began passing plates around the table.

“Nick tells me you two are cops,” Bethany said, taking a sip of water.

“We were. We just quit,” Starsky replied easily. “We paid our dues, and we’re ready for something else.”

“And I couldn’t be happier!” Bea sighed. “Now I hope you’re going to choose something nice and safe.”

“What _are_ ya gonna do?” Nick asked curiously.

“Don’t know yet,” Starsky replied, glancing at Hutch. “Part of the reason for this little vacation is so we can think it through.”

“Try something with regular hours,” Bea suggested, spooning some soup into a bowl and passing it to Nick. “Then maybe you can meet a nice girl and settle down.”

Hutch didn’t lift his eyes off his food. He fervently hoped that Starsky wouldn’t pick this moment to tell his mother and brother about them. To his relief, Starsky merely grunted and bit into his corn bread.

Bea began asking Bethany questions about her job as a dental hygienist, and Hutch risked a glance at his partner. Starsky appeared at ease, munching on his food and listening to the conversation. After a moment, Hutch felt a hand on his shoulder giving him a pat. Starsky had draped his arm around his mother's chair. He smiled.

“This place is so much smaller than the house,” Bea said after a moment. “David, I hope you and Ken don’t mind sharing a bed. I just have the pull-out sofa.”

“That’s not a problem,” Starsky told her. “We’ve had to share a bed lots of times over the years on assignment.”

Not to mention the fact that they always shared one these days. Hutch wondered if it was going to make things easier or more difficult sleeping with Starsky while they were there. Their sexual relationship was so new, they couldn’t keep their hands off one another.

Dinner over, and everyone opting to skip dessert, the group cleared the table and moved to the living room. Bea put on a record—the Ray Conniff Singers, Hutch thought he recognized—and they sat down and had coffee. Before they knew it, eleven o’clock rolled around, and Nick announced they’d be heading out. He and Bethany both had to work the next day. When they left, Bea told Starsky to pull the sofa bed out while she gathered sheets and pillows from the closet.

Hutch took the cushions and set them against the wall while Starsky yanked at the handle, pulling out the folded bed from inside the couch. “Man, I hope this isn’t gonna kill your back,” he whispered.

“I’ll be okay,” Hutch assured him. “Couldn’t be any worse than sleeping in the Torino on stake-outs.”

“Which you haven’t had to do in a while, and your back’s a lot worse now than it used to be.”

“Quit worrying!”

“Here we go!” Bea announced, entering the room with some folded linens. Hutch took them from her and began putting the cases on the pillows while Starsky put the bottom sheet on the thin mattress. Not for the first time, Hutch wondered if they should have stayed in a hotel, but Starsky had been adamant that they needed to stay with his mother so she could witness their relationship first hand. If that was the case, they’d better hurry and tell her, because their flight to Minnesota was in two days. Hutch dreaded it. No matter how Bea Starsky took the news, it couldn’t be as bad as what he expected from his folks.

Once they had the bed made up, Bea kissed them both goodnight and headed for her bedroom.

“You want the bathroom first?” Starsky asked. Hutch nodded, pulled his shaving kit out of his bag, and headed down the hall. The small powder room held a shower stall, sink, and toilet. He could hear Bea Starsky through the wall moving about in her tiny bedroom. Hutch peed, staring at the wallpaper pattern of pink flowers and green vines; took a quick shower with practically zero water pressure; brushed his teeth; and headed back to the living room in a pair of pajama bottoms.

“Not gonna sleep in the nude, huh?” Starsky asked teasingly.

“Don’t want to give your mother an eyeful,” Hutch said, sitting down on the sofa bed.

“It’d probably be the most excitement she’s had in years.”

“You’re going to have a terrible time washing that head of hair,” Hutch told him. “Water pressure’s terrible.”

“Terrific.” Starsky headed for the bathroom. After a moment, Hutch heard the shower come on. He lay down on his back, wincing a little at the lumpiness of the thin mattress. Closing his eyes, his mind wandered to the day when Starsky had been released from the hospital, and Hutch had taken him home to his apartment.

_“Man, it’s good to be home,” Starsky said, gingerly taking a seat on the couch. Hutch busied himself unpacking Starsky’s things. “I went to the grocery store yesterday,” Hutch told him. “Got a bunch of your favorite stuff. What the doctor o’kayed for you to eat, that is.”_

_“So I’m guessing you didn’t get me any salami,” Starsky replied glumly._

_“You guessed right,” Hutch confirmed. “Want me to heat you up some soup? Huggy’s coming by later with something for dinner.”_

_“Naw, I’m alright,” Starsky told him. “Come sit down here next to me.”_

_Hutch stashed Starsky’s overnight bag in the closet and came to rest beside him on the couch._

_“Think maybe you need a nap?” Hutch asked him._

_“Nope. I’m fine. Now stop with the mother hen act. I wanna talk to you.”_

_“What about?” Hutch asked, leaning back on the arm of the sofa._

_Starsky looked down at his lap. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you did for me at the hospital.”_

_Hutch frowned, not sure what Starsky meant. He’d done a lot of things for him at the hospital, ranging from feeding him to helping him with his exercises._

_Starsky met his gaze. “I’m talkin’ about the day you got me off so that pretty nurse wouldn’t see me hard and desperate.”_

_“Oh—“ Hutch nodded his head. “How come you’ve been thinking about that?” It suddenly occurred to Hutch that maybe he’d been too presumptuous in his actions that day. After all, he had pretty much ordered Starsky to lie there and take it. “Hey, Pal, I hope you’re not mad about that--- I’m sorry if I crossed a line.”_

_Starsky’s mouth fell open, and he stared for a moment. “What? No, no! That’s not it at all.” He shook his head. “I just can’t believe you did that for me. I mean, it was above and beyond the call of friendship, if you know what I’m saying.”_

_“Which is why I’m wondering now if maybe I went too far—“_

_“No, Hutch.” Starsky’s hand covered his where it rested on the couch between them. “I mean, sure—if it’d been Huggy or Dobey it would’ve been a bit much, but with you—I mean, there aren’t a lot of personal boundaries when it comes to us. There never have been.”_

_Hutch felt a blush creep up his neck. He licked his lips. “Well, if you’re trying to say thanks, then you’re welcome. It was my pleasure.” Realizing what he’d said, Hutch’s blush deepened._

_To his relief, Starsky laughed. “I’m glad we both got some pleasure out of it!” He shook his head. “Seriously, Hutch. It was---well, it was awesome. I don’t know if it was because I hadn’t gotten any in a long time, or because it was you doing it, or both—but that was the best hand job I’ve ever had.”_

_Hutch didn’t know what to say (“Glad you liked it, Buddy”?), so he didn’t say anything. It was the most surreal conversation he’d ever had with his partner._

_They dropped the subject then and watched a ballgame on television until Huggy showed up at the door with a pot of chicken and dumplings. “Hope this is bland enough for your stomach to handle, Starsky,” he told him as he set it on the stove. “I didn’t salt it at all, so you might want to add a little.”_

_“It smells terrific!” Starsky enthused, even though Hutch knew he wouldn’t be up to eating much of it. “Wanna stay and eat with us, Huggy?”_

_“Wish I could, but the place is jumping. Gotta get back there before Anita decides to cut out and leave me hanging. I wouldn’t say this in front of her, but she’s the best waitress I’ve ever had.” He sauntered to the door. “Glad to see you looking so good, Starsky,” he said._

_Starsky smiled gently at him. “Thanks for the food, Hug. I really appreciate it. Hutch can’t cook for crap.”_

_Hutch made an insulted noise, and all three men chuckled. Huggy shut the door, and Hutch fixed Starsky a small bowl of the chicken and dumplings. “Here, eat all of this. It’s only a few bites—you should be able to handle it. I’ll go run you a bath.”_

_Starsky dutifully began to eat. Hutch went into the bathroom and washed the tub out before filling it with water. He went back to the living room, smiled at the empty bowl, and helped Starsky get to his feet, keeping an arm draped around his waist as he walked him slowly into the bathroom._

_“Hutch—“ Starsky said as he unbuttoned his shirt and Hutch made short work of undoing his belt and pants._

_“I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get out of these things,” Hutch said, carefully pulling the jeans down and helping Starsky to step out of them. “We should’ve put you in a pair of those cotton hospital pants. They would’ve been much more comfortable. I’m sorry, Buddy, I just didn’t think…”_

_“Hutch,” Starsky said much more emphatically this time, and Hutch looked up at him before standing._

_“What?”_

_Starsky shed his shirt and then swallowed before pulling his underwear down. When Hutch went to help him peel them off, he found himself facing a formidable erection._

_For a moment, he just stared at it. Then he gathered his wits and helped Starsky step out of his briefs. “I see you’re recovering well,” he commented casually. “Still unable to control it?”_

_“If you mean am I still getting them all the time, the answer is no. This one’s for you, Hutch.”_

_“What?” Hutch’s mouth fell open and stayed that way._

_“That’s what I was leading up to out there on the couch, but I chickened out. Ever since you gave me that hand job, you seem to have this effect on me.”_

_“Oh.” Hutch raised his brows and tried to keep from looking at the cock standing at attention between them. “Well, I guess that’s understandable.” He swallowed._

_“Oh, really?” Starsky asked, planting his hands on his hips. “Would you like to explain it to me?”_

_Hutch felt the conversation quickly spiraling out of his control. “Well, um, I guess because I was the…last one to t-touch you like—like that. So, you have this reaction—“_

_“Kinda like Pavlov’s dog, huh?” Starsky asked skeptically._

_“Yes! Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” Hutch tried to smile, but it turned out more like a grimace._

_Starsky sighed. “Okay, so now every time I see you I’m gonna pitch a tent.” He moved toward the tub, and Hutch helped him to step in and lower himself into the water._

_Taking a seat on the toilet lid, Hutch said quietly, “I’m sure it won’t be forever. As soon as you’re back in the swing of things, you can make it with one of your ladies and then you’ll be right as rain.”_

_“What if I don’t wanna ‘make it with one of my ladies’?” Starsky muttered, staring Hutch down._

Starsky returned from the bathroom and slid onto the sofa bed beside Hutch, pulling the light blanket up over them both. “You warm enough, or you want me to ask Ma for another blanket?”

“I’m good,” Hutch said in a low voice. Sound carried in the little apartment. He could hear Bea Starsky’s television set from her bedroom. She was watching _All in the Family_ reruns. He could hear Archie Bunker say “terlit,” and “meathead.” Starsky pushed up on his elbow and looked down at him. “You aren’t disappointed I didn’t tell them tonight, are you?” he asked, studying Hutch’s face.

“No! No.” Hutch shook his head. “Might as well have one good night before the shit hits the fan. Besides, I wouldn’t have wanted to make Nick’s girlfriend uncomfortable.”

“That’s pretty much my thought process, too,” Starsky admitted, leaning down to give Hutch a soft kiss. His lips landed on the corner of his mouth, gently caressing until Hutch turned toward him, opening his mouth. Their tongues met, sliding against one another. Hutch reached up, gripping the back of Starsky’s neck with his hand, pulling him closer until he settled with his body pressed against Hutch’s side. They continued to kiss, their lips hungrily moving over one another. “Mmm…too bad we can’t do anything. I want you to fuck me so bad,” Hutch murmured into Starsky’s mouth.

Starsky moaned, the words enflaming him. “Maybe if we’re real quiet…” he whispered, his eyes bright in the darkness as he traced his fingers over Hutch’s bare chest and belly, running his thumb over his belly button.

Hutch smiled. “No, I don’t want your mother finding out by walking in on us screwing.”

“Probably not the best way,” Starsky admitted, leaning down to kiss Hutch’s neck.

“Oh, God, Starsk, quit. I can’t take it.  You know how loud I can get—“

Starsky chuckled. _Did he ever._ That had been a real surprise-- finding out his soft-spoken partner was the male equivalent of a screamer. Starsky had never been so turned on in his life as he was the first time he’d fucked Hutch and heard his vocalizations. He’d shouted so loud when he came that Starsky’s elderly neighbor had come to check on them. Starsky had had to tell her they’d been watching football. Hopefully she didn’t realize it wasn’t football season.

Settling his head on Hutch’s chest, Starsky listened to his partner’s breathing evening out. His hand rested on Hutch’s stomach, his pinky finger in the wide divot of his navel. Starsky wanted to drink champagne out of that indentation. Hell, he wanted to cover Hutch in chocolate and lick every bit of it off. It was all he could do not to attack the man, and he knew it was only his mother’s presence in the next room that kept him from it. All of this was so new—Starsky wondered if locking themselves in a hotel suite for a month of constant rutting would even satiate his desire.

And to think it had all started with that hand job in the hospital. Starsky had been floored when Hutch had done that for him. It had touched him deeply that his partner would do something so personal just to save Starsky some embarrassment. And the way it had felt had shocked him to his core. That his best friend could make him feel like that---it was unbelievable. Starsky had never thought of himself with a man, although he’d admitted to himself long ago that there was just something about Hutch that he knew could do it for him, if he let it. But he’d never allowed himself to go that route. After what happened, though, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About _Hutch._ It hadn’t been too long after he got home from the hospital that he kissed him.

_“Hutch, come’ere.” Starsky demanded. Hutch had been doing the dishes after a meal of scrambled eggs and turkey bacon, and Starsky had been working up the courage to kiss him for the past three days._

_“You’re not going to get revenge on me for the turkey bacon, are you?” Hutch asked, cautiously taking a seat on the couch beside Starsky._

_“No, at least I hope you won’t think of this as a punishment.” Starsky took Hutch by the shoulders and pulled him forward, pressing his mouth against his. Hutch’s lips were warm and soft, and Starsky quickly found himself lost in sensation._

_“Starsky,” Hutch asked a little breathlessly when they parted. “Is this about you being horny?”_

_Starsky looked at him. “Horny for you,” he said._

_“…Because I’m the only one here.”_

_“Well, I can assure you if Huggy was here, I wouldn’t be kissing him!”_

_“What about if Sally or Rhonda were here?” Hutch asked, his tongue snaking out to taste Starsky on his lips._

_Starsky groaned and clamped his mouth down on Hutch’s again, this time pushing his tongue inside. Hutch opened his mouth and the kiss became torrid, wet, hot, and urgent. Starsky moved his hands downward and slid them under Hutch’s shirt, finding his nipples and squeezing them._

_“Ahh!” Hutch almost shouted. “God, Starsk!”_

_“I want you, Hutch. Not Sally. Not Rhonda. **You**.” Starsky pulled Hutch as close as possible without hurting the wounds healing on his chest. He skimmed his fingers into soft, blond hair, his mouth working frantically over Hutch’s sensuous lips._

_“Are you s-sure?” Hutch asked between kisses._

_“Shut up, will ya?” Starsky reached a hand down and palmed Hutch’s crotch, relieved and happy to find hardness there. He didn’t know what he would’ve done if Hutch hadn’t been turned on by him. He rubbed, and Hutch let out a little noise that practically undid Starsky altogether. He scooted closer to Hutch on the couch, one leg on each side of him. Hutch lifted his legs and did likewise until their hard crotches pressed against one another inside their shorts. They kept kissing, tongues tangling, hips grinding, until they both came in their pants._

“David?” Starsky’s mother’s voice whispered in the darkness. Starsky just caught himself from guiltily jerking his head off Hutch’s chest. It was too dark for his mother to see anything, so there was no reason to make her suspicious by bolting up in bed. Slowly, he rose to a seated position.

“Yeah, Ma?” he whispered. _God, good thing me and Hutch didn’t start fooling around,_ he thought.

“Are you comfortable, dear? I’m sorry you and Ken have to sleep on that lumpy old thing,” Bea Starsky replied in a hushed tone.

“We’re fine, Ma. Hutch is already asleep.” A soft snore from beside him confirmed his words, and Bea chuckled. “All right, then. See you in the morning.” He listened to her footsteps fade away and the door to her bedroom close. Starsky moved over to his side of the bed, afraid she’d find him and Hutch entangled in the morning. His last thought before drifting off was that he could sleep anywhere, as long as Hutch was there beside him.

***

The following morning, Hutch awoke to the smell of pancakes and the sound of soft talking in the kitchen. Rolling over, a twinge in his back reminded him where he was—on the lumpy sofa bed in Beatrice Starsky’s tiny apartment. The last time he had visited Starsky’s mother, she’d still lived in a house, and he had slept in Nick’s old room in a reasonably comfortable bed. Hutch tried not to groan as he rose off the thin mattress; the last thing he wanted was for Starsky’s mother to know how uncomfortable he’d been. He circled to the bottom of the bed and lifted the frame, pushing it so it folded in on itself and then settled down into the couch. He replaced the cushions and throw pillows, and headed for the bathroom with his clothes.

When he returned, Starsky was sitting on the couch drinking a cup of coffee. He indicated a mug resting on a coaster on the side table, and Hutch gratefully picked it up and took a drink before taking a seat beside Starsky and giving the Precious Moments children on the front of the mug a long look.

“Creepy, aren’t they?” Starsky asked. “Ma just loves ‘em. Nick and I have been giving her Precious Moments stuff for years now.” He turned his own mug so Hutch could see the big-eyed, angelic-looking boy and girl dressed in wedding clothes and holding hands.

“My mother collects Fabergé eggs,” Hutch replied. At Starsky’s blank look, he said, “I’ll show them to you when we’re there.”

“Ma’s making pancakes,” Starsky told him.

“I thought so. They smell wonderful.”

“Did you sleep well?” Starsky asked in a low tone so his mother wouldn’t hear. “Don’t lie.”

“It wasn’t too bad. My back’s a little sore this morning, but nothing major. How about you?”

“I liked it when you wrapped yourself around me like a boa constrictor,” Starsky answered, smiling around his coffee mug.

“I did not!” Hutch objected.

Starsky nodded. “Oh, yes you did! I woke up and you were draped over me, trying to hump my leg.”

Hutch’s mouth fell open, and Starsky grinned. “Okay, maybe not that last bit. But you were all over me. I liked it.” He leaned forward and kissed Hutch’s mouth, pulling back with barely a second to spare before his mother walked into the room.

“You two ready for a big breakfast?” she asked merrily.

“I’m going to gain ten pounds if you keep this up!” Starsky said.

“Don’t worry; you’ll lose it again at my parents’ place. Mom can’t cook.” Hutch stood and followed Starsky into the kitchen.

“Oh, are you going on to visit Ken’s family?” Bea asked as she wiped down the counter.

“Yep,” Starsky said, taking a seat. “Come on, Ma, eat with us. Don’t stand there and clean.”

Bea sighed and sat down, passing the platter of pancakes to Hutch.

“What do you boys have planned for today?” She asked as they ate their bacon, pancakes, and eggs.

Starsky looked at Hutch. “Nothing, really. We just want to spend time with you, Ma. Mmm…this bacon is good. And it ain’t _turkey_.” He looked pointedly at Hutch, who rolled his eyes.

Bea looked pleased. “Well! That’s nice. Shall we go somewhere?”

“We can take you out to lunch,” Hutch suggested. “Or maybe dinner. We might not be hungry for a while after this.”

“There’s a lovely Italian restaurant I’d like to try,” Bea said. “Shall we ask Nick and Bethany to join us? Oh, wait—I think Nicky said they have plans for dinner.”

“It’s great he’s got such a nice girlfriend,” Starsky said and then winced. He’d opened a can of worms with that statement, and, predictably, his mother jumped on it.

“Yes, she is, isn’t she? You need someone just like her, David. Maybe now that you aren’t a policeman anymore, you’ll find the perfect girl. And what about you, Ken? Are you dating anyone?”

Hutch ran that question over in his mind, wondering how he could possibly answer without either lying or divulging the truth.

“Ma! What are you, a matchmaker or something? Leave Hutch alone.”

“Why, David! I just want you two to settle down and be happy! In fact, I know of two nice girls you can meet while you’re here.”

Starsky looked at Hutch, his eyes plainly asking if he could tell her now. Hutch would’ve preferred a little more peace before dropping the bomb, but he shrugged, silently giving Starsky his okay.

Starsky cleared his throat. “Ma,” he began.

Bea finished her glass of milk and looked expectantly at her son. “Yes, David?”

“Ma, uh… I want you to get it outta your mind right now that I’m gonna get hitched and give you grandkids someday, ‘cause it ain’t gonna happen. You’ll have to depend on Nicky for that.”

Hutch winced at Starsky’s tactlessness.

Bea looked alarmed. “My God, David! What are you trying to say? Has something happened? Have you been hiding something from me? Are you sterile? Were you shot in the groin? Oh, my God!” She yanked the table cloth back to stare at Starsky’s crotch area.

Hutch ducked his head, hiding a smile behind his napkin.

“No, Ma. I wasn’t shot in the groin.” Starsky smoothed the table cloth back down. “I probably _can_ have kids; I’m just not going to.”

Bea put her fork down. “David, if you’re saying you’re too old, that’s not true. Lots of men have children when they’re forty or older, and you’re only thirty-seven. I told you—it’ll happen for you.”

“Ma,” Starsky said, exasperated, “I’m not gonna have kids because I choose not to. I’m not gonna get married, either, unless something drastically changes and they make it lawful for men to marry each other.”

“What are you talking about?” Bea Starsky frowned. She turned to look at Hutch. “Ken, do you know what he’s talking about?”

Hutch opened his mouth to speak, but Starsky interrupted. “I’m sayin’ that I’m in love with Hutch. We’re in love with each other, so you can stop talking about finding us dates.”

Thick, impenetrable silence reigned for several long ticks of the clock during which Hutch tried hard not to squirm in his seat. Starsky’s mother sat staring at her oldest son like he was an alien from another planet, while Starsky calmly finished eating his breakfast. Hutch couldn’t have taken another bite if his life depended on it.

“So this is why you came to see me,” Bea finally said in a tone that sounded like he’d just delivered a death sentence rather than a declaration of love.

“Yeah, Ma, so you could be _happy_ for us. We wanted you to be the first to know.” Starsky looked into his mother’s eyes, and his face softened. “It’s not so terrible. We’re really happy. Me and Hutch have always loved each other, always been there for each other. Now we just know we want it to be forever and with no one else interfering—like wives.” He swallowed and looked to Hutch for help.

“We were hoping you’d be…okay with it. At least not, well, devastated,” Hutch said.

Bea stood up abruptly and left the room, her hand pressed to her heart. They heard her bedroom door shut quietly.

“Well, at least she didn’t slam it,” Starsky said. “Sorry, Hutch. I just couldn’t listen to her harping on us finding wives one more day.”

“It’s okay. At least it’s out, and we can stop dreading it.”

“Dammit, we have a right to our happiness just as much as anybody else!” Starsky said loudly. He pushed his chair away from the table and stood, gathering the plates and taking them to the sink. “And if she doesn’t like our choice, to hell with her!”

“Starsky!” Hutch admonished, coming to stand behind him. “You don’t mean that.”

Starsky leaned heavily against the counter, the muscles in his back bunching under his shirt. “I just resent the fact that we’ve got to crawl to our family and beg for their understanding.”

Hutch rested his hands on Starsky’s shoulders. “I guess we don’t have to do that. We can tell them to like it or lump it. But it’s natural for us to want their approval, or at least their acceptance. We should at least try to explain.”

Starsky turned around. “What do you think your parents are going to say?”

“I think they’ll say we’re disgusting aberrations of nature and tell us to get out.” Hutch smiled ruefully.

“God. Why are we putting ourselves through this? We should just catch the next flight home.”

“What about Nick? Don’t you want to tell him to his face?”

Starsky slumped. “Yeah. I’ll call him and see if he’ll meet us for lunch.” He went to the phone. While he dialed, Hutch walked into the living room and sat down on the overstuffed chair. He stared sightlessly out the window.

 

_The first time Starsky entered his body, it hurt. But the burn quickly paled next to the euphoria Hutch felt having his partner inside of him. Starsky took it slow, trying so hard to reign in his desire and make it good for him. They knelt on his mattress, Starsky behind him, Hutch’s hands clasping the brass at the head of his bed, his chin falling forward onto his chest as Starsky repeatedly speared him with his cock. Hutch growled low in his throat as he pushed back onto his partner on every thrust, murmuring encouragement. When Starsky hit his prostate, Hutch’s yell turned into a lengthy moan. He reached down and began stroking himself. Starsky planted kisses all along Hutch’s shoulders, licking at the sweat gathering on his skin before pressing his forehead to the nape of his neck. “God, I love you,” he murmured breathlessly as he bent one knee so his foot was on the mattress and began to piston faster, twisting his hips in a way that made Hutch squirm like a fish on a hook. Hutch cried out again, his cock swelling in his palm, dribbles of pre-cum leaking onto his hand. One more thrust and Hutch was over the top, bellowing his completion. His rectum spasmed around Starsky, rhythmically milking his orgasm from him. He heard Starsky let out a sobbing breath of air._

_Lying on the bed afterward, Hutch was surprised to see tears in Starsky’s eyes. “Hey, partner… that’s not the expression I want to see on your face after we make love.” Hutch thumbed the wetness away and replaced it with kisses._

_“That was the most…” Starsky swallowed, staring into Hutch’s eyes with an earnestness that made Hutch’s heart hurt, “…the most_ meaningful _sexual experience I’ve ever had, Hutch,” Starsky told him truthfully. “I was inside you._ Inside you! _It was amazing. I never thought we could be that close.”_

_Hutch’s eyes filled. He leaned forward and  kissed Starsky gently. Then the old lady from downstairs began pounding on the door, demanding to know if someone had just been murdered._

 

Starsky appeared in the doorway to the living area. “We’ll catch a cab and meet Nick at the deli near where he works.” He looked around. “Question is, what’re we gonna do until lunch time? Ma may very well stay in her bedroom until we leave.” He crossed the living room and knelt in front of Hutch’s chair. Hutch smiled at him and pushed the curls out of his deep blue eyes. “Wanna make out?”

Starsky grinned and climbed onto Hutch’s lap. “Always,” he said, taking Hutch’s mouth in a wet kiss.

Starsky was lost in bliss, his mouth almost numb from the onslaught of Hutch’s teeth and tongue alternating between nips and licks. He wanted to straddle Hutch and grind against him, but he refrained since he was in his mother’s home. He’d been sorely tempted to cross that line last night, but he had been right not to; he knew that. The kissing without petting was making him dizzy with want. Hutch’s mouth was soft, his tongue silky smooth, his teeth sharp, his breath sweet. Starsky couldn’t get enough of him. His hand curved around Hutch’s long neck, thumb brushing the underside of Hutch’s jaw.

A soft click alerted him to his mother’s door opening, and he pulled back from Hutch with a *smack* and pushed himself onto the floor at his feet. His mother’s footsteps approached, and Starsky ran a hand over his wet mouth, knowing Hutch was doing something similar above him in the chair, along with strategically placing a throw pillow over his lap. Almost belatedly, Starsky raised his knee to hide his own throbbing erection.

“I’ve been in my room praying,” Bea said without preamble. She cast what could only be called a disapproving look at her son and his partner. “I’ve asked God what I’m supposed to do when my oldest son comes home and announces he’s in love with his male best friend.”

Starsky cleared his throat, feeling Hutch shift in the chair. “So what did God say?”

“Don’t be irreverent, David Michael Starsky!” Bea admonished. “Just because you don’t have a relationship with our Lord doesn’t mean it isn’t possible!”

“Did I say that?” Starsky asked feebly.

Bea took a seat on the couch and stared at her son. “God told me not to be rash, so I’m going to set this news on a back burner for a while.”

Starsky squeezed where his hand rested on Hutch’s bare ankle, feeling grateful that God hadn’t pointed her to certain passages of the Old Testament. Bea’s gaze zoned in on Starsky’s hand until he removed it. “Okay, Ma. I guess that’s fair. I just talked to Nick, and Hutch and I are going to meet him for lunch. We’re gonna tell him what we told you.”

“Well, I hope you’re going to be a little more diplomatic with him,” Bea said. “Are we still going out tonight?”

“Of course!” Starsky replied. “That is, if you still want to.”

“I still want to,” Bea told him. “It’s my chance to try out that restaurant.”

***

“You’re gay,” Nick clarified, licking mustard off his fingers.

“Well, yeah. I guess we are,” Starsky told him. “I mean, we’re in love, and we’re both guys, so yeah.”

Nick laughed. “Well, ain’t this a trip? Dave Starsky’s just fallen off his pedestal. Now I’m gonna be the favorite!”

“Good for you, Nicky,” Starsky said sarcastically. “So I guess you aren’t gonna disown me?”

“What, did Ma disown you?” Nick asked, surprised.

“No, not exactly. She’s suspending judgment for the time being.”

Nick shrugged and looked at Hutch. “What are your intentions toward my brother?” he asked in a mock-stern voice before breaking into laughter.

“I’m glad somebody’s taking this well,” Hutch said, looking at Starsky.

When they’d left the restaurant, they walked Nick back to the building where he worked as a file clerk. “Are you sure you’re gay?” he asked when they arrived. “I mean, I’m having some trouble picturing it. Why don’t you two kiss each other and prove it to me.”

“Why in the hell would we lie about this?” Starsky asked. At Nick’s shrug, he sighed, looked at Hutch, then around the street. Seeing nobody was paying them any attention, he leaned forward and kissed Hutch on the mouth. It wasn’t anything hot and heavy, but it wasn’t chaste, either. When they pulled apart and Starsky turned to his brother, Nick wrinkled his nose. “Ew. Okay, I believe you. See you later.” He turned and walked into the building.

“I have to say, as weird as it was—I still prefer Nick’s reaction to your mother’s,” Hutch said as they walked down the street.

“Yeah, he took that better than I thought he would. I thought he’d go on about me being his role model and then call us fags or something.” Starsky stopped. “Hey, let’s go in this book store.”

They opened the door, the bell jangling, and entered the small shop where books lined every wall. “Looking for something to read?” Hutch asked, stopping to peruse the sale table.

“Yeah.” Starsky headed toward the back as Hutch moved from books on birds to books on trees, finally becoming engrossed in a huge tome of herbal remedies. When Starsky returned sometime later, it was with a package.

“You already bought something?” Hutch asked, surprised.

“Yep. I’ll show it to you in the cab. Did you find anything?”

“No, not really.” They left the store.

Once ensconced in the taxi, Hutch reached over and slid the hardback book out of the brown paper bag.

“ _The Joy of Gay Sex_?” He looked at Starsky, who shrugged.

“We might as well know what we’re doin’.”

Hutch rolled his eyes. “I thought we were doing pretty well without a book to instruct us.”

Starsky grinned. “Yeah, but I like to be informed. This has some interesting illustrations.” He grabbed his purchase out of Hutch’s hands and slipped it back into the bag. “Besides, you were the one who bought the toy to practice on.”

Hutch couldn’t say anything to that, and as the cab zig-zagged its way through late afternoon traffic, Starsky’s mind wandered to one of his fondest memories—the first time Hutch ever put his mouth on him.

_Water trickled down Starsky’s body as he got out of the shower. Drying his hair with a towel, he then wrapped it low around his waist, tucking it in. Hutch had announced his arrival and was waiting for him in the living room. Starsky’s skin warmed at the thought. All the kissing and mutual hand jobs they’d been giving each other were beginning to not be enough. Evidently Hutch thought so, too, for when Starsky came out of the bathroom, it was to find Hutch standing just outside the door._

_“Shit! You trying to give me a heart attack?” Starsky asked, hand to his chest. The bullet wounds were now almost completely covered by his chest hair, but he could feel them beneath his fingers—the taut, slick skin that reminded him he’d almost lost his life._

_Hutch didn’t reply, just sunk to his knees, stopping Starsky’s breathing for several seconds._

_“Uh…” was all he could get out before Hutch yanked the towel from around his waist and pressed his face to Starsky’s groin._

_“Fuck!” Starsky exclaimed, reaching out to clutch each side of the door frame. “Holy shit, Hutch!”_

_Hutch didn’t pay him any attention. Instead, he gently rubbed his face over Starsky’s sac and fast-growing cock, his breath falling warm on sensitive skin, each exhalation ruffling dark pubic hair. When Hutch’s mustache hairs glided over the back of Starsky’s shaft, Starsky sucked in a breath and held it for a long moment. Closing his eyes, he moaned deeply. The next thing he knew, slick, wet heat surrounded his prick. His eyes flew open to see Hutch, his partner and friend, suckling him, his hand coming up to cradle his balls, a look of pure enjoyment on his beautiful face. He felt Hutch’s other hand move around him to grip his ass. Starsky gasped, completely undone, as Hutch began to move his head up and down, sucking as his hand moved up to pump the base of Starsky’s shaft, his tongue swirling over the tip. Starsky’s legs began to tremble as he watched the blond head bobbing over him, listened to the filthy, slurping sounds, and felt all his blood fighting its way to his dick. He became instantly light-headed and had to lean back against the door frame. Encircling Hutch’s neck with his hand, Starsky stroked the golden strands of hair as Hutch pulled off and then licked him from base to tip._

_“Yo--aaah…ngghn,” Starsky babbled unintelligibly._

_Hutch sucked one of Starsky’s nuts into his mouth, jostling it with his tongue, and Starsky whimpered, trying hard not to pump too hard. Hutch’s big hands smoothed over Starsky’s ass, and he pulled Starsky’s cock into his mouth again, sucking enthusiastically until Starsky’s passion began to build to a point where he knew he was going to come._

_“H-hutch! I’m com-com-coming!” He expected Hutch to pull off, but he didn’t, and the sight of him literally guzzling his spunk made Starsky come even harder, hips jutting forward. He realized he was shouting and clamped his mouth shut, his body a rigid line as he let it all spill out into Hutch’s beautiful mouth. When he was finished, he reached down, gently thumbing Hutch’s bottom lip before pulling out._

_When Hutch stood up, Starsky leaned into the doorway, panting hard. “Holy fuck, Hutch! Where’d you learn to do that, huh?”_

_“I’ve been practicing,” Hutch smiled slyly before turning to walk into the living room._

_“Practicing!” Starsky followed him. “On who?”’_

_“Whom, Starsky. On whom,” Hutch corrected, an evil glint in his eye._

_“Okay, whom the fuck have you been practicing on?” Starsky put his hands on his hips. Now that his blood was circulating properly again, it was all rushing up into his face._

_“Not **whom** , Starsky, **what**. I bought a dildo.”_

_“You bought a_ what?”

_“A dildo. A fake dick.”_

_“I know what it is! I just can’t believe you bought one! And practiced sucking it!”_

_“I figured we might use it for other stuff, too,” Hutch admitted casually. Starsky just sputtered and sat down._

“Earth to Starsky! We’re here!” Hutch shook Starsky’s arm. The cab sat in front of his mother’s building.  Starsky blinked confusedly, and Hutch tilted his head. “What were you thinking about just now?”

Starsky handed the cabby a few bills and scrambled out of the car, Hutch at his heels. “About the first time you blew me,” Starsky said in a low voice, mindful of the people on the street.

“Oh, yeah?” Hutch smiled slowly. He patted the small of Starsky’s back. “I love sucking you.” Leaning forward, he put his lips to Starsky’s ear. “You always taste _so_ good.”

Starsky swallowed audibly and hurried up the steps of the apartment building. When Hutch reached the top stoop, he turned and looked out over the colorful trees lining the streets. There was a nip in the air, along with the faint scent of wood smoke. A group of kids played on the sidewalk across the street, and a few adults sat chatting on the steps of another apartment building.

“I’d love nothing more than to grab you up and kiss you, right in front of all these people,” Hutch said softly to Starsky, who stood holding the door open for him.

“I’d love that, too. Hell, I’d settle for just being able to kiss you in front of my mother.” They exchanged regretful looks before going inside.

“So how did Nicky take it?” Bea asked from where she sat knitting on the couch.

“Like a trooper,” Starsky quipped. “He’s ready and willing to be your new favorite child.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Bea objected. “I’ve never had a favorite.”

Starsky hung his jacket on the hall tree beside Hutch’s and put his arm around Hutch’s waist. “Then he asked us to prove it by kissing.”

“He didn’t!” Bea exclaimed, appalled.

Starsky nodded his head. “He did.”

“And what did you do?”

“We kissed, of course. We didn’t want him to think we were lying!” Starsky gave Hutch a squeeze before releasing him and walking around to take a seat next to his mother. Hutch sat down in the big chair.

Bea knitted some more, her brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen two men kiss.”

“It’s not much different than a man and a woman kissing, Ma,” Starsky pointed out.

“I guess not.” She glanced at them, unsure.

“I hope you’re building up an appetite for Italian,” Hutch said, wanting to get off the subject of kissing. If Starsky’s mother asked for a demonstration, he was sure he’d die of embarrassment.

“Oh, yes. I only ate a very small sandwich for lunch. I’ll be ready. How does five o’clock sound? That way we can beat the church crowd.” Bea still seemed to be studying them in between glances at her knitting.

“Sounds good to me!” Starsky looked to Hutch, who nodded agreement. “Well, I think I’m going to take a quick shower,” Starsky said, standing again. “I feel kind of grimey.” He crossed the room and pulled his suitcase out of the hall closet, rummaging through it for a change of underwear, his robe, and his shaving kit. When he disappeared down the hall, Hutch shifted in the chair, feeling uncomfortable being left alone with Starsky’s mother when she was so obviously conflicted about them.

“If you’d like a drink or anything, Ken, please make yourself at home. I want you to be comfortable here.”

“I appreciate that, Mrs. Starsky.”

“Call me Bea,” she said.

“Bea,” Hutch amended. He cleared his throat, rubbed his chin, stared out the window. Finally, he ventured, “What are you knitting?”

Bea held it up. “A scarf for Nicky for Christmas,” she replied. It was green, red, and yellow.

“The colors are nice,” Hutch stated, glad it wasn’t for Starsky. It was hideous.

“I think so, too,” Bea smiled, clicking her knitting needles together as her hands seemed to fly over the yarn. “So…when did this thing start up between you and David?”

“Thing?” Hutch asked. “You mean…”

“The relationship. When did it become more than friendship?”

Hutch could hear the shower running down the hall and willed Starsky to hurry.

“Uh…well. We’ve really loved each other a long time, but it got romantic a month or so ago…around the time Starsky got out of the hospital.”

“Really? And how did it happen?”

Hutch was flummoxed. He didn’t know how to answer that. He couldn’t very well say that while in the hospital, Starsky had asked him for help with an erection, and then decided that he liked it so much, he wanted more. Hutch cleared his throat. “I—I—I think Starsky b-brought it up. He’d been thinking about it a while, and, uh, he wanted to know how I felt.” Hutch squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t know; it just happened.” Hutch could feel the beads of sweat forming on his hairline.

“And then? When did it become physical?” Bea asked, her hands deftly moving the needles, picking up the green yarn and combining it with the yellow.

“Oh…pretty soon after that.” Hutch rested his head on the back of his chair, his eyes still closed, a little more relaxed when not looking at the sweet little woman knitting on the sofa asking about his gay relationship with her son. “It was just a…a natural progression.”

“I see. So you suddenly went from being friends to kissing and…more.”

The clicking of the knitting needles sounded loud in the room. Hutch took a breath. Then another.

“Ma, would you stop interrogating Hutch?” Starsky’s voice brought Hutch’s eyes open. Starsky stood in the middle of the room, his hair wet and his blue bathrobe tied around his waist.

“I’m not interrogating him, David, we’re just having a conversation.”

“Then why does he look like he wants to sink into the floor?”

“Starsky, I-I’m fine. Your mother just wanted to know how things started up between us.”

“Jesus, Ma, how do things usually start up? Hutch and me have known each other for years! You know how tight we’ve always been. It was a sexual spark, okay? And now we’re in love, and we’re gonna stay in love.” Starsky looked ready to argue all night if he had to, which was typical of Hutch’s partner when he was defending him.

“Calm down, Starsk, she was just asking. It’s okay, really!”

Bea smiled. “David always did get passionate about people and things that meant a lot to him.” She put her knitting down. “Now, I’m going to start getting ready for our outing. Excuse me, boys.” She left for her bedroom.

“I’m really sorry, Hutch,” Starsky said once she was out of earshot.

“There’s no need, Starsky. Just because I was a little uncomfortable…”

“What,” Starsky said in mock surprise, “you were uncomfortable discussing our sex life with my mother?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe her. Did she ask you which one of us tops?”

“Of course not! She really just wanted to know how we figured out we were in love, I guess. I didn’t know how to answer that.”

“You should’ve just gone with the conventional answer.” Starsky sat down on the sofa. “That’s what we’ll do when your folks ask. We’ll say, ‘we just looked at each other and suddenly knew.’ How’s that?”

“My parents aren’t going to ask, believe me. If they don’t throw us out, they’ll just give us revolted looks. They definitely won’t be interested in how it happened.”

Starsky came to sit on the arm of Hutch’s chair. “You think we should skip the Minnesota trip? You that sure they’re gonna hate the idea?”

Hutch wrinkled his nose and scratched his head. “I think it’s pretty likely. My father’s a bigot—I’ve heard him talk about a co-worker’s ‘fairy’ son a few times. And Mom will think it’s unnatural. She’ll probably suggest therapy.” Hutch sighed. “I don’t really see the point in putting ourselves through it, and I should’ve realized that from the start. We could go someplace else. Or just head home. I can always call and tell them I’m going to use the inheritance…I’m only doing it as a courtesy, anyway. They don’t have any say in it.”

Starsky bowed his head and thought about it. “What about your sister?” He asked after a moment. “Doesn’t she live somewhere down south? How do you suppose she’ll take the news?”

Hutch’s older sister, Andrea, was married and had three children. Hutch hadn’t seen her in a few years, but they got along pretty well. They just never had the opportunity to become close for various reasons, such as the hectic social schedule their parents had always forced upon them. Committees, leagues, sports, clubs. “She lives in Georgia. She—might be okay with it. I’m really not sure how she’d react, to tell the truth.”

“Do you want to call her and see if she’d be okay with us visiting? We could stay in a hotel.”

“I guess it’s worth a try. I’ve always wanted to spend more time with her,” Hutch mused.

“Go ahead and call. We can leave Ma some money for the phone bill.”

Hutch nodded and got up, heading for the kitchen phone. Starsky took the opportunity to get dressed, then settled on the couch, closing his eyes. His earlier memory of the first time Hutch went down on him got Starsky thinking about the first time he’d done the same to Hutch. He’d always thought it would be such a degrading thing—kneeling to a man and doing something like that. He’d been in for a real surprise, because when it happened, he’d never been so turned on in his life.

_He had Hutch exactly where he wanted him. It wasn’t the most private place—Minnie Kaplan’s bathroom during their farewell to Metro party—but Starsky didn’t care one iota. The way Hutch was leaning against the wall and breathing so fucking hard—he wanted nothing more than to shatter him from the inside out._

_Kneeling on the fluffy, white rug, Starsky carefully undid Hutch’s pants. They’d spent the last ten minutes kissing frantically, their hands moving everywhere. Hutch looked down at him, his mouth open and eyes glazed over with need. Starsky practically yanked his pants down to his knees in his eagerness to get at him. Jolted by the desire that ran through him at the sight of Hutch’s erect cock so close to his face, Starsky breathed in his scent, worshipfully running his fingers through the blond pubic hair surrounding Hutch’s large phallus, lightly brushing over the heavy sack hanging below. Hutch groaned, long and low, the sound raising the hairs on Starsky’s arms._

_Starsky pressed kisses in the crease between Hutch’s leg and groin, running his tongue over soft skin, eliciting more groans and a desperate writhing that stiffened Starsky’s own cock to the point of pain. Hutch slid a little down the wall, his knees weakening as Starsky sucked one of his tight balls into his mouth, running his tongue over it, loving the light fur that coated the soft skin. Another swipe of the tongue pulled a gasp from Hutch’s throat, and Starsky thrilled at the power he felt coursing through him—that he was able to make Hutch come unglued in such a way. Hutch’s fingers slid into his hair as Starsky let the one testicle go and concentrated on the other, lapping at it until Hutch’s noises became louder and more urgent. Starsky turned his attention to the rigid cock pushing against his forehead. Starsky rubbed his cheek over it, loving its silky texture. He felt he could spend hours touching and tasting it, but Hutch didn’t look like he’d last another five minutes. Starsky straightened his back and took hold of the base, sliding it inside his mouth, as far back as he could go. He blinked away a few tears as his gagging reflex kicked in, but he persisted, sucking and licking until Hutch sobbed helplessly above him, hands pulling at Starsky’s hair, letting out a keening wail, so sexually charged Starsky creamed his pants. Cum shot down his throat, and he swallowed it all, humming his approval, the vibrations making Hutch come even harder. Starsky held onto Hutch’s legs, keeping him from falling, fingers clutching the insides of his thighs. Gently, Starsky let Hutch’s spent cock slip from his lips and stood to find tears running down Hutch’s wrecked face. He held him close, murmuring in his ear. “I love you; God, I love you.”_

“She said she’s happy we’re coming!” Hutch announced, returning to the living room. Starsky opened his eyes. Hutch had a decidedly bemused look on his face.

“Really? Well, that’s great!” He sat up.

“She wants us to stay with them.”

“Okay…why do you look so shocked?”

Hutch’s eyes met his. “I told her, Starsk. About us. I couldn’t bear the thought of flying out there just to have her reject our relationship, so I told her that we’re a couple. She didn’t seem to mind!”

Starsky blinked. “Really? Well…wow!” He grinned. Hutch looked so happy right then, that Starsky would’ve done anything to keep him that way. “So we’ll change our tickets, then? Fly to Georgia on Tuesday instead of Minnesota?”

Hutch nodded, a wide smile spreading across his face.

“Com’ere, Babe,” Starsky held open his arms, and Hutch walked over and eased into them. Starsky could smell Hutch’s shampoo as he nuzzled his neck. “I’m glad your sister is okay with it.”

“Me, too,” Hutch said into his shoulder. “I just can’t believe it.” After a moment, he sat up. “Starsk…I’m thinking about shaving off my mustache.”

“Huh?” Starsky blinked. “Where did that come from?”

“I’ve been thinking about it anyway, but I haven’t seen Andrea in a long time, and I guess I just want to look more like I did when I last saw her.” Hutch shrugged.

“Okay. Do it then.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” Starsky asked. “It’s your mustache.”

“You don’t have a preference?” Hutch asked.

Starsky shrugged. “Not really. I think you’re handsome with or without hair on your lip. It’s up to you.”

Hutch smiled broadly and leaned in, kissing him. Without meaning to, the kiss became hot and torrid fast. “God, it’s been days, Starsk—“ Hutch said hoarsely against Starsky’s lips. Starsky’s tongue swept across Hutch’s teeth before pushing farther in to skim the roof of his mouth.

“Tell me about it. I wish we had some privacy.”

As though the words summoned her, Bea Starsky came out of her bedroom. Hutch jerked away from Starsky like he was hot coal.

“Well, I-I um, I guess I’ll go shave.” He grabbed his kit out of the closet and disappeared down the hall, almost tumbling over the rug.

“Sorry,” Bea said. “It seems I interrupted something.”

“It’s okay, Ma,” Starsky said, leaning back on the cushions and willing away yet another hard-on. “We just haven’t had a lot of alone time lately.”

“Ken’s parents have a larger house, don’t they? So maybe there you will have the time you need.”

“We’ve decided not to go to Minnesota. We’re going to Georgia, instead, to stay with Hutch’s sister. He just got off the phone with her. Don’t let me forget to pay you for the call.”

“Nonsense, David, I’m not poor. You haven’t let me pay for any groceries while you’re here, so let me pay for the call.” She sat in the overstuffed chair and started going through her purse. Pulling out a lipstick, she applied it, pursing her lips.

A few moments later, Hutch appeared, his face cleanly shaven. Starsky let out a whistle and stood up. “Man, I haven’t seen that upper lip in a while!”

Hutch smiled shyly, and Starsky moved to kiss him, stopping himself just before their lips met. “Sorry, Ma. I forgot you were here for a minute.”

“You can kiss him, David. If you two are really in love, I guess I need to get used to it.”

Starsky raised a finger and ran it over the now-bare skin above Hutch’s upper lip, then let it fall to run over his full bottom lip. Hutch caught it between his teeth. Leaning forward, Starsky removed his finger and touched his lips to Hutch’s, softly skimming across them before pressing more firmly. Hutch leaned into the caress, wishing like crazy he could take Starsky in his arms and kiss him passionately, like he wanted to. They parted, their eyes conveying to one another just how much more they both wished they could do.

Bea stood up. “I think you look very nice without your mustache, Ken. Why did you shave it off?”

“Just got tired of it, I guess,” Hutch answered. “It was time. So…are we ready to go?”

Bea nodded, and Starsky got her coat for her, helping her to slip it on. They caught a cab to the small restaurant called “A Taste of Italy.” Hutch and Starsky shared a look going in, never able to eat at an Italian restaurant without remembering the day Starsky had been shot in one. Starsky reassured Hutch with a grin, and Hutch touched him lightly on the small of his back as they went in behind Bea.

“Isn’t it quaint?” she said. “I’ve heard wonderful things about their lasagna.” The hostess led them to a table, and they took their seats.

The waiter took their drink order, and Starsky announced he was going to use the ‘little boys’ room. “Wanna come with me, Hutch?”

Hutch looked at him quizzically before excusing himself and following Starsky into the rest room. “Afraid to use the toilet alone?” he asked when the door swung closed. Starsky was busy looking under all the stalls.

“It’s empty,” he announced. “Now come here.” He pulled Hutch to him and attacked his mouth, kissing him hard before moving his thumb up between their lips to feel the bare skin beneath Hutch’s nose. “I dunno, it’s like kissing you for the first time all over again,” he panted into Hutch’s mouth.

Hutch pushed his tongue inside Starsky’s mouth, pulling him as close as possible, pressing their bodies together. Both made starving noises as they licked and nibbled, caressed and sucked. The door to the rest room swung open and both men let go, turning away from one another, Starsky walking straight into a stall, and Hutch facing the sinks.

The man who entered found a urinal, and Hutch turned on the water, washing his hands. When the man left the room, Starsky appeared out of the stall looking wrecked. “Shit. That was close.”

Hutch smiled. “We’d better get back out there.”

Starsky rubbed his groin ruefully. “My dick has really had a workout lately.” He adjusted it, and they headed back out to their table.

“You want to split the lasagna with me, David?” Bea asked when he’d seated himself.

“Sure. That sounds good. What are you getting, Hutch?”

“Uh…I think the cheese ravioli.”

The waiter appeared, and they ordered. “Nick and Bethany are coming by again this evening,” Bea told them. “I called Nick when I was in the bedroom getting ready, and he said they’re going out for an early dinner beforehand. They’re going to bring a dessert.”

“Okay,” Starsky said easily.

“Bethany seems like a nice girl,” Hutch commented. “Really good for Nick.”

“Yes, I hope they stay together,” Bea agreed.

“He needs to hold onto his job,” Starsky said. Their waiter brought them each a salad, and they dug in. “He seems to have a cycle—get a job, find a lady, lose the job, lose the lady.”

“David, stop putting your brother down. Just because you’ve been luckier than he has…”

“Luckier?” Starsky laughed around his bite of salad. “I’ve just stuck with what I’ve chosen to do. Nick always quits or he’s fired.”

“I think there are extenuating circumstances that you are conveniently forgetting,” Bea replied, sipping her water.

“Ma, you wear blinders where Nick is concerned. You always have.”

“David, I told you, I don’t play favorites.” Bea stabbed at a piece of lettuce. “Ken, I bet your family doesn’t have conversations like these.”

“My family doesn’t have conversations, period,” Hutch told her.

Bea looked at him, puzzled. “You’re not close to your family?”

“You could say that.” Hutch went on eating his salad, his face unemotional.

“Hutch’s parents are a little…stilted,” Starsky told his mother. “They don’t get real emotional about things.”

“Oh,” Bea cast another look Hutch’s way. “I see. I guess I’d rather fight than not say anything at all.”

Hutch nodded, his thoughts turned inward. Starsky hated seeing him like that—it made him want to try to shower Hutch with all the love he obviously didn’t get growing up. But no matter how important Starsky was in Hutch’s life, he couldn’t take the place of the loving parents he’d never had. Anger, hot and steady, coiled in Starsky’s gut. He’d like to tell Ronald and Elaine Hutchinson a thing or two—starting with what a wonderful, caring son they had and how lucky they were to have him---followed by how callous and stupid they were to never really get to know him or find out what it’s like to be loved by him. Of course, he knew it wouldn’t do any good, but it would certainly go a long way in making him feel better.

Starsky realized his mother’s overly-perceptive eyes were on him, and he made a point to stop staring at Hutch with so much concern. The waiter chose that moment to bring their main courses, and the rest of the meal consisted of positive comments about the food and Bea’s story about a couple she knew at church who adopted a baby from Vietnam.

“You want the rest of my ravioli?” Hutch asked when Starsky had put his plate aside.

“You not hungry?” Starsky asked. “You hardly ate lunch, either. Me and Nick polished off most of it.”

“Just feeling a little under the weather,” Hutch gave Starsky a soft smile.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite after mine, but we can wrap it up and take it home, right, Ma?”

“Definitely. Waste not, want not.” Bea motioned for the waiter and asked for a take-home bag.

It was a nice evening for autumn, and Bea suggested they walk home instead of taking a cab. “I need the exercise,” she told them. The streets were dark and fairly empty, and Starsky took Hutch’s hand in his as they walked. It felt nice to do something so romantic and natural. He could tell Hutch felt the same, for he squeezed his hand.

When they reached the apartment building, Nick and Bethany were sitting outside waiting for them.

“Goodness, are we that late?” Bea asked. “I wouldn’t have suggested we walk if I’d realized it!”

“No, we’re a little early, Ma. We haven’t been out here long,” Nick assured her.

“You could’ve used your key, Nicky,” Bea said, leading the way inside.

“I didn’t have it with me.”

“Lost your keys again?” she asked, and he looked guilty. “They’re around somewhere. I’ll find them.”

Inside, Bea switched on the table lamp. Nick carried a package to the kitchen. “We brought apple pie. Hope everybody likes that.”

“We’re stuffed,” Starsky said, sliding the take-home bag with Hutch’s leftovers into the refrigerator. “Where did you two eat tonight?”

“We ate at some fancy place with my office manager and his wife,” Nick answered.

“He must’ve noticed your good work!” Bea exclaimed, preparing the coffee pot to brew and getting cups out of the cupboard.

 “No,” Nick said, “nothing like that. Bethany’s good friends with his wife.”

“Yes, we went to dental school together,” Bethany told them quietly.

Starsky strolled into the living room where Hutch had taken a seat on the sofa. “You feeling alright?” he asked, sitting down beside him and putting a hand on his knee.

“I think maybe I’m coming down with something,” Hutch replied, looking a little green. “It just came on all of a sudden.” He leaned his head back.

Starsky reached up and felt Hutch’s face, noticing that Hutch didn’t seem to have the energy to bat his hand away like he usually did when Starsky tried that. “You’re kind of warm. Why don’t you go lie down in Ma’s room? She won’t mind.”

Hutch looked as though he’d dearly like to do just that but hated to impose.

“Ma!” Starsky called and Bea appeared from the kitchen. “Hutch’s feeling a little sick. Is it alright if he lies down on your bed while we visit?”

“Of course!” Bea moved toward Hutch, feeling his head with the back of her hand just as Starsky had done. “You have a bit of a fever. Come on, follow me.”

Obediently, Hutch got up and went with her to the bedroom, which was dark and cool. Gratefully, he slipped off his shoes and lay down on the soft mattress. He barely noticed Bea covering him with a quilt before he fell asleep.

As though from far away, Hutch heard snatches of conversation and muted laughter from the other room. It reminded him of times when his parents had had parties lasting way into the night while he and his sister slept upstairs. There was always music and the sounds of glasses clinking--sometimes raucous shouts and drunken laughter. In the morning there would be the smell of stale cigarette smoke and spilled alcohol. One time he had found a pair of ladies’ underwear out in the backyard. When he’d showed them to his father, Ronald Hutchinson had snatched them up and spoken to Hutch as though it was something _he’d_ left out there.

Hutch was glad he and Starsky weren’t going to Minnesota. It had been a rotten idea from the start. He had ambivalent feelings about seeing Andrea, but her positive tone on the phone had gone a long way in stirring up his hope. It would be so nice to finally feel he had some family—someone he could lean on who was actually related to him. It would have been wonderful to have had that during those awful days after the hit when he hadn’t known whether Starsky would live or die. As it was, he and Andrea almost felt like strangers rather than siblings close in age.

Hutch’s head ached dully, and his stomach felt rocky. He wished he could be up and talking with Starsky’s family instead of lying in bed, but he couldn’t summon up the energy to go back in there. He heard Starsky’s laughter and smiled, drifting into another light slumber in spite of himself.

At some point, Hutch emerged out of sleep and opened his eyes to see a light from the hallway and feel the bed dip beside him. A cool hand touched his forehead and then his cheeks.

“Still hot, Ma.” Starsky’s voice came out of the darkness.

Hutch’s mouth was dry. “W’time ‘s it?”

“It’s past midnight. Nick and Bethany just left. How do you feel?”

“Just kind of sick to my stomach. And tired.”

A rustle beside the bed and Bea’s soft voice, “Give him these.”

“Here’s some aspirin, Hutch. You still have a fever.” Cool hands lifted his head from the pillow and placed two pills in his mouth. A glass pressed to his lips, and he swallowed cold water. “There you go. You stay in here. Ma’s gonna sleep with me in the living room.”

Hutch struggled to sit up and immediately felt his body object. “No—I don’t want to take your mother’s bed…”

“Nonsense!” Bea told him. “I’m not so old I can’t sleep on a pull-out.” Hutch knew that objecting to that would either be calling Bea old or admitting that the sleep sofa wasn’t comfortable. “You go back to sleep, Ken. You’re in no condition to move, and besides…you don’t want to give David whatever you’ve come down with, do you?”

Hutch couldn’t argue with that reasoning and sank back into the pillows. Starsky smoothed his hair out of his eyes while Bea went about getting her night clothes out of the drawer.

“I think someone’s just tryin’ to get out of seeing my old schools tomorrow,” Starsky teased.

Hutch reached up and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I _want_ to see them. I want to know everything about you.”

Bea looked over her shoulder at them, and Hutch thought he saw her face soften.

“I’ll change in the bathroom,” she said, leaving them alone.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Starsky said.

“It’s just a bug. It’ll probably be gone tomorrow. I wish I could sleep with you, though,” Hutch said woefully, surprised at just how much he hated the idea of sleeping alone.

“Me, too. But Beatrice Starsky has spoken,” Hutch could see Starsky’s wide grin in the dark as he leaned down to kiss Hutch on the forehead. “Get a good night’s rest.”

He left the room, closing the door behind him, and Hutch lay listening to the water running in the bathroom. He heard Bea come out and Starsky go in, and the toilet flush. His eyes grew heavy, and they closed.

The following morning Hutch felt much better. His fever seemed to be gone, and all that remained of the bug was a slight queasiness that kept him from eating much of the large breakfast Bea prepared.

“I’m sorry to have taken your bed last night,” he told her as he slowly sipped a glass of watered-down orange juice.

“I don’t want to hear another word about it. David and I had a nice night together. I enjoyed it.”

Hutch raised a brow at Starsky, who looked away, his mouth twitching, letting Hutch know that ‘nice’ wasn’t the word he would’ve chosen to describe sleeping with his mother.

“So, are we going to go see your schools?” Hutch asked.

“You sure you’re up to it?” Starsky ate his fifth piece of bacon.

“I’m fine—I told you.”

Starsky shrugged. “Okay. It must be love, Ma—he had a perfectly good excuse to bow out, and he didn’t.”

Bea patted him on the hand. “Who could help loving you?” She got up and started rinsing off the dishes.

Hutch and Starsky helped her straighten the kitchen, and then got ready to go out. Bea had a sewing circle to attend and left before they did.

“Too bad you’re not up to par,” Starsky said, running his fingers through Hutch’s hair. “We coulda taken advantage of this empty apartment.”

“You wouldn’t seriously have sex in your mother’s house, would you?” Hutch asked, taking Starsky’s hand and kissing his palm.

Starsky thought about it. “I guess it would be kinda weird. Like she was watching or something.”

Hutch shuddered at the thought, and Starsky laughed. They grabbed their coats and left, catching a cab to Starsky’s elementary school.

“I guess it’d be too much to think any of my old teachers would still be here.”

“Highly unlikely,” Hutch told him as they stood in the bright morning sunshine looking at the three story brick building.

“I remember having music on the top floor. I loved music, but old Mr. Dayton always made me mouth the words when we sang for an audience. Said the way I sang knocked everyone else off key.”

Hutch looked at him, shocked. “That’s terrible! You should’ve been singing to enjoy yourself, not to make an impression on an audience! You were only a kid, for Pete’s sake!”

Starsky smiled, putting an arm around Hutch’s waist and pulling him close to his side. “I guess so. Sometimes I sang anyway, and Mr. Dayton shot daggers at me with his eyes from the side of the stage.”

Hutch hugged him back. “He sounds like an old turd.”

“Yep. That pretty much describes him.”

They watched a teacher lead a group of kids to the playground.

“I used to be a really good runner. I could beat most of the kids in my grade,” Starsky said, his eyes wandering to the track before sweeping back to take in the front of the school again. He pointed to the flag pole. “In sixth grade, it was my job to put the flag up in the mornings. I had to get here half an hour early to do it, but we lived nearby, and I rode my bike. The next year I had a paper route and had to get up even earlier. That was the year Pop died.”

Hutch moved behind Starsky, holding him around the waist, his chin resting on Starsky’s shoulder. “I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

“Yeah, well, you know, they say your experiences make you who you are. I guess all that early responsibility shaped me into someone who could back you up on the streets.”

Hutch pressed a soft kiss to Starsky’s neck but remained silent. After a few minutes, they walked down the steps and into the building. “Man, this all looks so much smaller than I remember! Everything shrunk!” Starsky looked around.

“You grew, dummy,” Hutch said.

“Hey, here’s the art room! I remember my teacher, Miss Gilson. She was real pretty. We used to have to pick up scraps on the floor at the end of class, and the boys would crawl around her and look up her dress.”

Hutch shook his head, chuckling. “Dirty little bastards.”

“I think I was in this class in first grade,” Starsky pointed to a room much like all the others. It smelled of paste and pencils. “Mr. Hardy was my teacher—I liked him a lot. I heard he died from a brain tumor about six years ago. He couldn’t have been very old. Fifties, I guess.”

They walked on, coming to the library. “I spent a lot of time in here after school when Ma had to work. The librarian used to find special books for me to read—‘cause I’d read about everything in here.” Starsky stared through the windows at the shelves of books and the kids sitting at tables looking through them. “I mostly have good memories of school.” He looked at Hutch. “What about you? I’d love to see where you went to school.”

Hutch shook his head. “You’d be bored. We wore uniforms—it was a lot like the military, come to think of it.”

Starsky watched him with sad eyes but turned away before Hutch could see, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the pity. They looked in a few more classrooms, but Starsky couldn’t remember any others that had been his.

“I wonder why I remember some things so clearly but others not at all,” he mused.

“I’ve often wondered that myself,” Hutch said. “Something must make an impression, I guess.”

Outside, they walked to the middle school three streets down.

“This place sucked,” Starsky stated, looking up at the dark, formidable-looking building. “I hated it. There’s nothing worse than middle school –a time when you aren’t a kid and you aren’t a teenager, either. Fortunately, it only lasted two years."

"You met Sharman Crane here," Hutch pointed out.

"Yeah," Starsky smiled. "Woodshop with her was pretty cool." He thought a bit. "What I remember about this place is being in the drama club.”

Hutch looked at him, surprised. “You were in drama? I never would’ve imagined.”

“You kidding? As good as I am undercover? I think my interest for it began when I starred in the variety show we had in third grade.”

“You did mention playing Camille once…” Hutch ventured, not particularly wanting to think about the circumstances under which Starsky had brought that up.

“Yeah, that was after I moved to California. We had a shortage of girls that were willing to act. I wore a wig and everything—got a standing ovation, too.”

“Wow. Would you wear the wig for me sometime?” Hutch teased.

“I would if I still had it,” Starsky winked at him. “I only went a year of high school here before moving to live with Uncle Al and Aunt Rosie; I heard they've torn the place down to build a new one, so we may as well skip that. What do you say to lunch? Think your stomach could handle it?”

“I can always order something bland,” Hutch replied. They headed for the main road where they could hail a cab.

“Hutch, can I ask you something?” Starsky ventured when they were seated at a small deli near his mother’s.

“Sure. You know you can.” Hutch had ordered the vegetable soup, and it seemed to be agreeing with his stomach. Starsky got a hoagie.

“Was your childhood really that bad? I mean, you just seem kinda…lost when we talk about it. I know stuff like you were a sea scout and that your folks made you earn your own money in high school as a life guard. But I don’t know any real stories about your life back then. Sometimes it makes me wonder…”

Hutch looked up at him. “Wonder what?”

Starsky shrugged. “Wonder if maybe…you have some really bad memories that keep you from talking about it.”

Hutch put his spoon down and looked away, and Starsky reached out to cover his hand with his. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want.”

Hutch swallowed. “I don’t know what to tell you, Starsk. My parents didn’t hit me or anything. There’s no awful skeleton in my closet. But when I think back to my childhood, I don’t really have a lot of great memories. I was always kept very busy, and I was always expected to do very well at everything I tried. We weren’t rich, but we were definitely upper middle class and could afford the country club and things like that. A lot of the people I hung out with _were_ rich and a little spoiled, and maybe that’s why I didn’t cultivate any deep relationships, other than Nancy next door---who was more of a sister to me than my own—and Jack Mitchell, maybe. But Jack was all about what his money could buy, and I was pretty busy with sports in high school, anyway. We were best friends, but nothing like you and I have been. I don’t know,” he shook his head. “I’m sure I did a lot of other stuff in school, but I just don’t remember much of it. None of it really made an impression on me. It wasn’t until I went away to college that I felt like I really started to live.” 

Starsky’s hand still covered Hutch’s on the table. He patted it before withdrawing. “I’m glad there isn’t anything awful that you’re hiding. I’d hate to think that anybody hurt you.”

Hutch shook his head. “There are a lot of ways to hurt, Starsky. Indifference is one of them.”

Starsky looked down at his plate.

“I’m sorry, Pal. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, I wanted to know.” Starsky tried to smile. “It just hurts _me_ , that’s all.”

“I know it does. That’s why I wish I hadn’t said it.”

They walked back to Starsky’s mother’s. The weather was chillier than it had been, with wind that raced around corners and nipped at the skin. “Our flight leaves at noon tomorrow,” Hutch said.

“You excited to see your sister?” Starsky asked.

“I don’t know. A little.” Hutch buried his hands in his jacket pockets. “What do you want to do with your mom on our last night here?”

“Just hang out. We don’t have to do anything special.” Starsky suddenly bent his knees and jumped, grabbing onto the branch of an oak tree that lined the street. He did a few chin-ups, as Hutch stood watching. When he dropped back to his feet, he said, “I’m showing off for my guy,” and winked at him.

“You’re a nut,” Hutch smiled fondly, and they continued walking.

“I still have the urge to lick your upper lip,” Starsky told him when they reached his mother’s building.

“We’ll just have to put it on the ‘things to do when we get home’ list,” Hutch said.

“Yeah, along with ‘look for a new place for us to live.’”

“Not to mention ‘decide what we want to do with the rest of our lives,’” Hutch reminded him.

Bea was back from her sewing club and sitting on the sofa with a book. “There you two are! Did you have a nice time?”

“Very nice,” Hutch told her, hanging his and Starsky’s coats on the hall tree. “Starsky showed me his old schools, and we ate lunch in a delicatessen down the street.” He took a seat in the chair. “How was sewing?”

“Oh, just a bunch of old women complaining about their health and showing off what they can do with a needle and thread,” Bea told him, putting a marker in her book and closing it. “But it gets me out every week.”

Starsky came to sit beside his mother. “You want to stay in tonight and play games or something?” he asked her.

“That sounds nice,” she said. “I have those steaks I wanted to cook for you two, anyway. Would you mind terribly if I took a nap first?”

“Of course not,” Starsky kissed her cheek. “Is there anything we can do for you while you’re sleeping?”

“No, no, just relax.” Bea stood and smiled, patting Starsky’s cheek. “I’ll only sleep an hour or so.” She went into her bedroom and shut the door.

“So what’ll we do now?” Starsky asked, patting the sofa cushion beside him. Hutch smiled, got up from the chair, and went to sit there, his knee bent against Starsky’s thigh.

“Don’t know,” Hutch replied, leaning his head back on the sofa and looking at Starsky, who reached out and rubbed his thumb over Hutch’s naked lip. “I’d say ‘make out’, but I don’t want you to catch whatever I had last night.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Starsky said, leaning in and kissing Hutch, his tongue snaking out to taste the skin under his nose. Hutch chuckled and pulled away, wiping at the wet streak there.

“That tickles!”

“Deal with it,” Starsky said and kissed him again, this time moving forward so their bodies pressed together. He angled his head, running is lips over Hutch’s, loving the taste of him. Hutch’s hands moved into Starsky’s hair, tugging gently as their mouths moved together in a sensuous dance.

“This is going to heat up fast,” Starsky whispered against Hutch’s bottom lip, and Hutch nodded. Starsky pulled away. “Let’s just lie down here together.” They pushed their shoes off and reclined on the sofa, Starsky’s back to Hutch’s front, Hutch’s arms loosely wrapped around Starsky’s waist. Starsky could feel Hutch breathing softly in his hair, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the quiet moment. He wished more than anything that they could be alone, naked in a bed with hours to do as they wanted. And there was a lot he wanted to do.

It continued to amaze him how much pleasure he took from touching Hutch’s body. This was someone he’d known for years and spent countless moments with. Perhaps that’s part of what made it so good—there wasn’t a lot of shyness and anxiety between them because they knew each other so well. He found mapping Hutch’s body with his mouth was one of his favorite things to do, particularly since it elicited such delicious sounds from Hutch—sounds that made Starsky’s dick hard in a matter of seconds. He enjoyed spending long moments on places such as the backs of Hutch’s knees and the insides of his elbows. He loved running his tongue in the crease between his legs and groin, too, and there was nothing as succulent as his deep, wide navel. Starsky thought if he were a poet he would _definitely_ write a poem about Hutch’s navel.

“What are you thinking about?” Hutch said into Starsky’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Your navel,” Starsky replied truthfully.

Hutch turned his head a little. “My _navel_? Why?”

Starsky moved back so he could see Hutch over his shoulder. “Because I love it, that’s why. It’s one of my favorite parts of your body.”

“You’re weird,” Hutch mumbled into Starsky’s neck, kissing below his jaw.

“Well, what part of me do you like best?”

Hutch’s lips moved back up to Starsky’s ear and his breath was hot as he whispered, “Your big, long _cock_.”

Starsky rolled his eyes. “How unimaginative.”

Hutch kissed Starsky’s ear. “I love your tongue, too.”

“I’ll bet,” Starsky laughed, cringing a little because he was ticklish.

“And your long fingers,” Hutch added, his own tongue dipping into Starsky’s ear before his teeth got hold of the lobe and nibbled.

Starsky wiggled his backside against Hutch. “You’re not helping things here, you know.”

Hutch gave a little thrust at Starsky. “Oh, yes, and how could I forget? Your round, high, sexy-as-hell ass!”

Hutch thrust harder and Starsky gasped. “Quit! I swear, if you don’t stop, I’m shoving you in the closet and fucking you senseless.”

Hutch laughed a little evilly. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re such a mama’s boy; you’d freak if she heard…or saw.”

Starsky squeezed his eyes shut because Hutch was right.

Hutch’s hand insinuated its way under Starsky’s shirt and found a nipple, fingers pinching it lightly. Starsky wiggled out of his grip and fell onto the floor. “Okay, enough of that!”

Hutch laughed outright and sat up.

“When did you get to be so mean?” Starsky pouted, pushing himself to his feet. He walked over to the stereo. “Here, let’s see what kind of music Ma’s got.” He flipped through the albums. “Ooo…The Best of Andy Williams. Oh, and Engelbert Humperdinck. Okay, how about Charlie Rich? He’s pretty good.”

He slipped the album out of its cover and put it on the turn table. After “Behind Closed Doors” began playing, Starsky went in search of a deck of cards. When he returned, he caught his breath when he saw Hutch leaning sensuously back on the couch, hair falling in his eyes, reading _The Joy of Gay Sex._

“Hutch! Put that away!” Starsky grabbed it from him and shoved it deep into his suitcase. “You are really incorrigible, you know that?”

Hutch grinned. “I’m trying.” He sat up. “Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s play some cards.”

Starsky got the card table out of the closet and they pulled the chair closer to the couch. “Ma wouldn’t like it if we played poker. How ‘bout Gin Rummy?

“Sure,” Hutch agreed.

Before they knew it, they were on the second side of Classic Rich, Vol. 2 and their third game of cards. Bea had come out of the bedroom moments before and could be heard rummaging around in the kitchen. It wasn’t long before the aroma of cooking onions filled the air.

After Hutch won the third game, Starsky threw his cards down. “You’re obviously cheating,” he grumbled. Hutch shook his head and gathered up the deck.

“You are such a bad loser, Starsk.” They got out Monopoly and Bea joined them in a game while the steaks cooked.

They ate to Simon and Garfunkel’s _Bridge Over Troubled Water_ lp. Hutch played footsie with Starsky under the table, slipping his bare toes up the leg of Starsky’s jeans and rubbing his shins. At the same time, he chatted away with Bea about music while Starsky repeatedly spilled mashed potatoes on the table cloth.

“David, what is the matter with you?” Bea finally asked.

“He’s never had very good table manners,” Hutch put in, lifting his leg and settling his foot in the crotch of Starsky’s jeans, pressing at the bulge there with his toes. Starsky jumped, spilling his potatoes on his shirt this time.

“I am going to kill you,” Starsky whispered to Hutch later that night after they’d all gone to bed, and he and Hutch lay side by side on the lumpy sofa bed.

Hutch turned his head and looked at him in the small amount of light spilling in from between the drapes. “What?” he asked innocently. Starsky’s eyes slit in a warning that Hutch knew all too well, and he tried to look contrite. “Sorry, Starsk.”

“You’ll pay, don’t you worry,” Starsky promised, rolling over and presenting Hutch with his back.

It took Hutch a very long time to fall asleep, not only because he knew Starsky was true to his word, but because Starsky’s delectable ass was only inches away and completely unavailable. It was clearly evident that payback had already begun.

_To be continued…_

 

 

 

 

 


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